Moments in Time
by Wednesday Ghost
Summary: Random moments in time. Sweet, toxic, meaningless; connected, in primitive ways. Cigarette smoke, grass stains, threesomes and dead freshmen. Bubbles, hickeys, and over-dramatic orgasms. It's amazing how these can be connected by a single moment. ch.2 up.
1. Default Chapter

Title: Moments in Time  
Fandom: Prince of Tennis  
Rating: R  
Pairing: Multiple  
Disclaimer: SO not mine.  
Comments: Random. Very, very random.  
  
  


  
  
  
  
  
The wisps of smoke curled softly around his face, framing it, touching it, drifting away. He hated the smell of cigarette smoke.  
  
The grass under his bare back, white school uniform hiked up to his armpits, was rough and scratching. Nothing like in romance novels, where the blades, ironically, felt like fur, and the fucking leaned more towards loving.  
  
The sun above burned him all over. He felt pink under the light, naked (not that he wasn't) (almost) and like a child in the waves, floating, bobbing, circled by sharks.  
  
And still- that damned cigarette smoke. He coughed violently.  
  
Shove. Shove. Shove. Back and forth he was hurtled across the green green grass, pulled back and slammed forward again. Impeccable white uniforms were regrettably marred with earth-stains; the inside of them embittered with hot bodily fluids. Nothing about this was loving. Nothing about it felt good.  
  
He was finished. The thrusting stopped with a jerk and a shivering, then, sighing and standing, he zipped up his pants and flicked away the cigarette butt. The sun made his hair glow, awfully bright. The grass stains hadn't seemed to reach the white-white of his own uniform. He was... untouchable, in a bastardly way.  
  
"Now will you shut up?"  
  
Sengoku flinched and forced a smile. "Sure. But you could've asked nicer."  
  
Akutsu shrugged, his uncaring evil angel. "I don't ask. I take."  
  
"That's right." Sengoku tried but failed to rectify his own disheveled uniform. Two different zippers were broken. He hated that, really, he did.  
  


  
  
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Gakuto popped the bubbles that drifted by him, floating along quietly on the bath-water's surface. His magenta hair was plastered, sopping wet, to his forehead and cheeks. Drops of water ran down the sleek skin to his eyes, but the lashes caught them and deftly deflected their journey to the sides. The boy reached over the tub edge and retrieved a pink bottle with strawberries plastered all over it. He slowly, leisurely, emptied more bubble bath into the hot stream of water gushing from the facet at his feet. Leaning back in the tub, he waited, and waited, and ten minutes later, was happily drowning in great tall mountains of pink bubbles, swallowing him whole, hiding his naked, gleaming body from the curious eyes of old family portraits on the wall. He vaguely hoped that his doubles partner would be in the mood for a good fuck the next day. Oshitari never seemed to pick the right days- the ones right after Gakuto had bathed in the tub and smelled like strawberries.  
  


  
  
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Kamio placed the last clip into Shinji's hair, beaming with pride at this finishing touch. He had succeeded in transforming his best friend into a rather passable, if sullen, version of Tachibana An, complete with Adidas sport dress and raven hair pulled back with heart-shaped clips.  
  
Shinji looked at him with a blank stare and slightly flushed cheeks. "Now will you have sex with me?" The words were (typically) quiet and fell lifelessly onto the bed they both perched on, consumed by a ravenous comforter. Kamio looked away, to the wall, and stared hard at it, unconsciously counting the bogeys his little brother had flicked onto the white-washed plaster.  
  
"Yeah. But you gotta remember what I said! Don't keep your voice so low, and don't grunt or anything... you're a girl, remember? Not a boy. Because we're NOT gay." Kamio didn't sound so convinced himself.  
  
"Yeah, sure. Whatever." Shinji dismissed these demands as easily as he rid Kamio of his shirt, leaning quite suddenly forward and latching onto those quickly twittering lips with a tangible, long-suppressed hunger. The fan above beat slowly around, feeding the fire with dull air. The room still felt hot.  
  
Kamio broke the kiss only long enough to say "An's dress!" when Shinji had eagerly removed it and pitched it behind him, over his shoulder, where it unfortunately landed in a grimy fishtank. The raven-haired second year allowed for no more protests, keeping his best friend from sucking in life-sustaining oxygen by sucking that wet tongue into his own mouth, so hard that Kamio nearly choked. They both ignored the fact that neither knew what they were doing, and were awkwardly silent the next day at practice when their buchou asked for an explanation of such large and colorful hickeys in such random places.  
  
  


  
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God, it was awful. Horrible, just wretchedly disgusting, beyond repulsion.  
  
He closed the doors to his sempai's wardrobe quickly. But even still, faced with nothing but carved mahogany, the image of flamingly hot pink roses burned into his retina underneath closed lids. He shook his head violently, but the offensive blouses remained.  
  
"Yuuta-kun, quit convulsing, if you're /that/ jealous, you can borrow one or two anytime." That sweet voice, those sugary words, they cut at his nervous system like knives through barbed wire. He forced himself to turn towards his sempai with a smile.  
  
"N- no, no thank you..." He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "But you're right, you have very nice... taste... in clothing." The lies. The lies! He could just see, in the back of his mind, his religious father bitch-slapping him with a giant rosary. But what was so hard about lying to Mizuki, agreeing that his sempai had impeccable taste in... blouses? He'd lived with Aniki, hadn't he? Aniki wore the damn weirdest outfits.  
  
"Of course." Mizuki replied smoothly, stroking his tawny cat languidly. His room smelled of far too many different candles burned all at once, clashing together, weaving a sick scent. Yuuta vaguely wondered why he'd agreed to come over. "They're all fine silk. From China." He offered the cat to Yuuta to pet, holding it out by the thing's armpits. It glowered.  
  
Yuuta anxiously moved forward. It took him a good thirty seconds to work up the nerve to touch it. It bit him right away.  
  
  


  
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Akazawa pressed his ear up against the wall of his dorm room, straining to hear the heated, romantic whispers on the other side. He abruptly pulled away when a heavy object (most likely a body) was slammed up against the opposite side, then again, and again, accompanied by moans, and retreated to his dorm-mate's bed when he was one-hundred percent sure that Kisarazu and Yanagisawa were indeed having sex approximately eleven feet away. He put on his headphones, playing the music as loud as it would go, and alternately hoped that they didn't move from the wall to Yanagisawa's dorm-mate's bed, which, although conveniently close, happened to be Yuuta's.  
  


  
  
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Eiji clawed at the towel draped around Kaidou's neck, making pitiful little mewing noises. Kaidou obediently pushed harder.  


  
  
  
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Two hours later, Eiji threw his long arms around Inui's neck and tightened them further, gasping, face red. Inui planted deep, pressing, insistent kisses on the slender neck. Both of their pants were abandoned on the locker room floor. Violent thrusting died down quite suddenly to a spasmodic twitching on both of their parts with Eiji crying out "hoi hoi hoi hooiii hoi HOI HOI HOI HOI NYAH--!!!" and Inui grunting and groaning and Kaidou, watching, hissing in the corner at such obviously over-dramatic orgasms.  
  


  
  
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"WHAT?!" Tomoko's voice rang out over the bobbing dark heads of the five o'clock subway crowd. Lights flashed and an electronic voice boomed out of loudspeakers, warning the arrival of the train. People jostled each other for the front, wanting a seat or good standing spot. "WHAT WHAT WHAT?! What do you mean, 'Ryoma asked you out'?! MY Ryoma?!!" Her face was contorted with fury.  
  
Sakuno cowered, backing up till she nearly fell off the edge. "I'm s-s-so s-sorry Tomoko-chan..." She sobbed.  
  
The train was drawing closer. People pressed up against them, anxiously awaiting the sliding doors and ten-minute trip to downtown Tokyo.  
  
Tomoko was screeching now in uncontrolled rage. "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU'D DO THIS TO ME! I DON'T UNDERSTAND! WE WERE FRIENDS, SAKUNO-!!!" Her voice, which had been deftly climbing octaves, abruptly halted its descent as she reached a point in her emotional outpour that left her at a loss for words.  
  
The train was rushing towards them, but something was wrong. This was not the right one, this one was headed North. The overhead voice, booming from wall-speakers, informed them of the schedule. The next train was theirs. This one was just passing through, at eighty miles an hour.  
  
Rushing. Hurtling.  
  
"I..." Tomoko trembled. Sakuno stared, in awe. Like a deer in headlights, too dumb to move.  
  
"I HATE YOU!!" Tomoko snapped, and unable to control herself, shoved Sakuno away from her. Clumsy feet failed to find a grip on the concrete, and two brown braids lashed the air as the young girl fell. Fell down, down, down, and hurtling forward, horn blaring, lights blinding, she was gone. The train erased her, just like that, the people had no time to scream. Not at eighty miles an hour.   
  
A tall, pale boy in the back, having watched the entire scenario in amusement, laughed, laughed and flicked a still burning cigarette into the stunned masses. A redhead, just behind him, never saw a thing, too busy trying to fix a broken pant zipper.  


  
  
  
  
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END  


  
  
  
  
  
Comments: Will update soon. Check back for more randomness... XD I always update my livejournal first, look for the username /xiaoyin.  
  
COMMENTS MAKE KAIDOU BLUSH. CRITIQUE AWAY, BITCHES. X3


	2. Part II

Moments In Time - Part II

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"What's the point? What's the point? Oh, oh fucking hell, what is the POINT?!!" Eiji threw the game controller away from him, where it hurtled just to the left of the TV, slamming into the wall and popping off its cord.

Inui barely glanced up from where he was executing a final series of jump-combinations, leaving his opponent brutally KO-ed. When he had properly entered his initials in as the top scorer, he set his own (intact) controller down and looked placidly over at Kikumaru, who was still hyperventilating.

"What are you looking at! UGH!" Eiji jumped up and stormed past the couch where Oishi was reclining, watching nervously, and stomped into the kitchen, around the corner and out of view.

"I think he may have taken the loss a little bit badly.." Inui remarked dryly, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose. Oishi didn't have time to respond to that with his usual "that's Eiji"- his doubles partner came stomping back into the room, face red, and threw himself bodily onto the couch next to the fuku-buchou.

"It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not FAIR!" He whined petulantly, and Oishi hushed his griping with a soothing pat to that wild red head.

"I mean, Inui's never played the game before and I've beaten it like EIGHTY times!" Kikumaru felt the need to point out his awesome record of past victories.

Inui studied his teammate silently for a moment, then shrugged, making mental notes, having left his notebook at home. "I have a certain… penchant… a talent, even… for fighting games." The bespeckled teen said quietly. 

Oishi laughed nervously at the infuriated pout that followed this statement. "Now, why are you getting so worked up over just one game?" He continued stroking Eiji calmingly, enjoying the feel of those fine locks tangled between his fingers. "If you want, I'll play you next, Eiji. You always beat me. I don't mind."

Just like a child, Kikumaru leapt excitedly off the couch. "YES! And I will crush you, I will smash you into pieces!" He did a poor imitation of Momo's 'Dunk Smash', rendering it even more flamboyant than it already was.

While his doubles partner was distracted, Oishi shot Inui an apologetic look, but Inui just shrugged and smiled fluidly, handing over the controller. It was growing dark anyway, and close to the time he usually met Kaidou out by the bridge.

A few minutes later, as he opened the door to leave, the data tennis player paused for one final moment to listen to Eiji's delighted screams and Oishi's shuddering moans. Whether Oishi was losing to Eiji, or they were both winning in a different game altogether, he wasn't entirely sure.

Closing the door behind him, he made another mental note to look for hickeys tomorrow.

-----

Hiyoshi smiled as he watched Jirou happily devour his ice cream cone, nimble tongue darting out to capture falling drops, melted by the heat of the overhead sun. Their wrinkled Hyotei uniforms, altered when they entered High School, were littered with tiny grass stains, paying tribute to the half hour the two had spent lounging in the courtyard after school.

"Ne, Hiyo? How's yours?" Jirou asked animatedly, looking up from the strawberry rain he was intent on catching.

Startled, Hiyoshi looked quickly away, having been caught staring. A slow blush crept stealthily across his cheeks. "It's fine." He said quickly, not even looking at the pralines and crème cone he had spent the rest of his lunch money on. He remembered, quite suddenly, Thursday's tennis practice. How he had showed Atobe his latest technique, and how Jirou, awake for a change, had squealed and gushed and jumped repeatedly over it, then later imitated the martial arts-esque nature of it, trying to pull a ninja move of some sort on Oshitari, and falling heavily onto his butt instead.

Blushing a vivid pink by now, Hiyoshi crammed the rest of the ice cream cone into his mouth, swallowed with cold difficulty, and shouldered his bag. "let's go!" He muttered after a brief moment of panicked chewing, grabbing Jirou's arm and pulling the surprised blond away form the vendor, across the street, and down a dark alleyway.

"What are you- mmmph!" Jirou's question was cut curtly off as Hiyoshi shoved him up against the brick wall, pressing hot, insistent lips to the volley genius'. Jirou's slim-fingered hand dropped his own strawberry ice cream, where it splattered across the asphalt, and hot with the afternoon sun, began to rapidly melt.

When Hiyoshi, inexperienced as he was with kissing, finally pulled back to breathe, damnit, breathe, Jirou's questioning gaze had grown very somber, highly unusual for the boy.

"Why did you do that, Hiyoshi-kun?" Jirou's lips were already starting to show the signs of irritated swelling, having been so brutally crushed right off the bat.

Hiyo looked angrily away, face red in shame and lust. "I don't know. I don't know." Jirou's questioning gaze lingered on him still. "I DON'T KNOW, OKAY?!" He started slamming his fist into the brick wall, and little specks of blood and flayed flesh were left in mounting numbers each time. Jirou grabbed at his wrist in apprehension.

"Well… don't hurt yourself!" He examined the tightly balled fist with obvious concern, making little worried noises as he picked at the bits of grit in the wound, and Hiyo flinched.

"Aren't you… mad?" Hiyoshi asked, after a few minutes of silent doctoring.

Jirou looked up, sunny smile back in place. "Of course not." He looked back down at the hand he held. "Actually, I was hoping you'd stop being so shy and kiss me soon… I just didn't quite expect such a… _violent_ first time." He giggled and looked abashedly up at his taller, if younger, teammate.

Hiyoshi swallowed heavily, willing the shock down his esophagus and into the bitter acids of his belly. He took his hand back from the blond, feeling no pain, and used it to pull Jirou close, to his chest, resting his chin on that soft, curling head.

"But isn't this wrong?" He asked, quietly.

"Maybe." Came Jirou's muffled reply.

"But it's okay?" He pulled back, so that he could see that tanned, sleepy face. "If it's secret?"

"Sure." Jirou smiled again, that smile that melted his heart. "And I won't tell a soul. Will you?"

"Never." Hiyoshi nearly hissed with a fervent determination to thwart those that would even *dare* to rub 'politically correct' in his face.

"Okay." Jirou laughed, and tiptoed up, raised himself up, and pressed his lips into Hiyo's, softer than their first time, sweeter, too, as the blond still had strawberry ice cream on his lips, and Hiyo could taste that now, without the blood in the way.

-----

Marui nibbled on the wad of gum crammed inside his left cheek. It was freaking hot outside. His perfect hair was growing exceedingly frizzy.

Scratching indiscriminately at his crotch, the boy checked his watch. Where was Kirihara? Marui had even offered to pay for lunch, something that hardly EVER happened, he could assure you that, and his stupid kouhai had decided to stand him up? The twat, the little farker… he'd get Jackal to give him the most mind-numbing noogie at tomorrow's practice. Make sure it hurt for HOURS. Yeah.

Marui, busy fuming over his cup of mocha latte, perked up at the sound of a familiar voice. He looked around the inside of the café, and grinned when he spotted Niou and Yagyuu, a few booths down. How the three had ever missed each other, the red head didn't know- but this should be fun. Ooooh, yes, much much fun.

Were they on a date? Everyone on the team thought something was going on with those two. Even Sanada, who was loathe to spread or participate in gossip, had apparently made a comment about it to Yukimura, which Yanagi had overheard and promptly recorded into his notebook, which Kirihara had then filched and read aloud during changing in the locker-room. 

This concept amused the hell out of Marui. Dating? LOVERS? He had to know, and by his balls, this was the perfect opportunity to find out. 

Ducking down in his own booth, he tuned out the softly chattering patrons around him, and focused on the doubles partners, concentrating all his resolve onto overhearing their conversation. After a few minutes of such eavesdropping, his eyes grew wide in shock, and the wad of gum fell unattractively out of his mouth onto the floor.

"Ohh… ohhhhh… Yagyuuuuuuu-kun……" Niou's voice climbed octaves as he went on. "Say it again… please, please… say it again…"

"…"

And whispered: "Psst! _Say it again,_ dammit!"

"Your. Voice. Makes me so. Hot." Yagyuu sounded like those words, obviously forced past his lips, were pure torture to mutter.

Unable to keep his curiosity from the getting the better of him, Marui glanced around the edge of the bench. He sputtered at the revelation this brought. Both Niou _and_ Yagyuu had cell phones to their ears; apparently they were talking to _each other_, on said cell phones, while seated at the _same_ table.

Niou pulled his silver, streamlined little Kyocera away from his ear, and sighed audibly. "Yagyuu, you're not helping me much." He broke into another one of his patented sex-demon-smirks. "I'm trying to find out if I'm good at phone sex or not, and you just sit there like a day-old corpse! I haven't dug up any bodies lately, so wouldja get to it already? C'mon, breathe heavily or something, jack off under the table, anything!" The silver-haired boy frowned.

Yagyuu sat unmoving, the cell phone still to his ear. "I don't like this. What if someone hears?" Marui wasn't sure if his teammate was looking around for eavesdroppers or not, his eyes being concealed by the glasses, but the redhead ducked momentarily anyway.

"Look, just this once, okay? Play along?" Niou pleaded, in a far-from-desperate tone. Yagyuu's shoulders drooped just a little bit, but, like the whipped bitch that he was (in Marui's opinion) he resumed the phone-sex session.

"Oh… Ahhh… ah, ah… I'm gonna come just thinking about you…" Niou's free hand moved from the tabletop to his lap, arousing more than just suspicion in Marui. "Say it again, Yagyuu…"

Yagyuu looked rather pale at this new turn of events. "Uh… uhm… I w-want to feel you beneath me, bucking, hot and s-sweaty……"

"Ohhh, yeah… I want to feel you riding me… your cock inside me, yeah… you're all over me, all over me, I'm gonna fucking come…"

Yagyuu, having grown increasingly uncomfortable with each word, couldn't handle it anymore. Sure, he was the epitome of composure both on and off the tennis courts, but when the boy he'd been in love with since his first year of junior high was saying _these_ things to him, sounding so much like he meant it, like it could almost be real, he simply couldn't listen. This was how he shut himself off from the world.

"I- I've got to go, Niou." He stood from the table quickly, and left his doubles partner looking both surprised and delighted.

"Mission accomplished." The silver-haired teen murmured to himself, pocketing his cell phone and following Yagyuu out of the café at a leisurely pace. Marui watched them go, finished jacking off under his own table, cleaned up with a napkin that he left with tip, and then went to find Kirihara and dish every single little detail. By the next morning, he knew, the entire school would be talking, and he digested all of this juicy information eagerly as he strolled out the door, popping a new wad of bubblegum, kiwi.


End file.
